For Better or Worse
by The Whispering Panda
Summary: A collection of one-shots inspired by some of my favorite songs. Capturing moments from many characters' points of view; emotional, brutal, bittersweet, or just sweet. Giving Hunger Games fans a new perspective on the characters they fell in love with.
1. A Thousand Years

_A Thousand Years_

She approaches, and my heart rapidly increases its beat. I avert my eyes because she's looking at me. The sketchbook in my lap is opened to my most recent drawing.

It's her, but it's not. Her face, stern, as it usually is in school, is perfect. I've captured her stubborn scowl and turned it into an expression of beauty. I know I have talent. Surely Gale couldn't have done this.

But it's not complete without color. My paintbrush finds the pallet and begins to mix. It's hard to find the color of her hair in the sunglight. Eventually, I get it, and slowly fill in her braid.

"Is that me?" Her voice startles me and I slam the book shut, smudging the paint.

"Yes," I say bravely, even though I'm terrified of where this conversation may lead to, what might happen.

"Why were you drawing me, Peeta?" she asks. It's the first conversation we've had. Even though her voice is poisoned with anger, I can't help but smile.

"Why not?" I reply. This irritates her. "But I'm not finished yet. I promise, I'll show you when it's done."

"Don't bother," she says and turns to leave.

* * *

I remember when I fell in love with her. We were both young, but a love like ours can't be denied because of youth. She had a beautiful voice, and I watched her walk home. That seemed like a thousand years ago. And it might as well have been. I'll love her for a thousand more if I have to, if that's how long it takes for us to be together.

* * *

When she walks, time stands still. Her beauty is natural, not forced or practiced. She doesn't even know how beautiful she is.

When she passes, I feel faint. But I'm brave. I stand, firmly. She's standing in front of me. I hold my breath. The moment seems to last for hours.

The only thing that makes it fall short of perfect is the fact that she never meets my eyes.

* * *

One day we'll find each other. Time will bring her heart to me. I will love her like Gale has never loved her. Past, present, and future.

One step at a time.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the characters (Suzanne Collins) or the song (Christina Perri). Please share your thoughts.  
**


	2. Cough Syrup

_Cough Syrup_

So what?

They congratulate me, shower me with riches, food. Yay for me.

So, I won. It doesn't matter. I'll always be haunted by the Games. Life's too short to even care at all.

You know what's good? Liquor. It helps me keep my sanity. I can't sponsor these kids. They don't stand a chance.

And they all die.

* * *

I should have found my fortune when I got out of the arena. But what did I find instead? Hell.

My family is dead. My girl, too. Gone because of my stunt with the forcefield. But so what? I have whisky.

Maybe if they were alive, I'd stop. She'd beg me to quit, tell me I'll get alcohol poisoning. Sounds good to me.

Life's too short to even care at all. I'm letting go. So what?

* * *

District Twelve is darker now than ever. I would long for the sun, but in this hangover it would just cause more pain.

I can't see straight. My thoughts are a blur. There's vomit on my shirt. Why is the wind so loud?

* * *

They told me life would be better now. That it would be restored. Liars.

So I unscrew the cap.

Tip the bottle.

Pour the liquor.

Grasp the glass.

Swallow.

Ah.

* * *

**Again, I don't own this character or the song. And this story wasn't about cough syrup, but the idea of the song is still along the same lines.  
**


	3. Glad You Came

_Glad You Came  
_

I watch, anxious. The sun just can't set quick enough. He's coming, soon. He promised. And he's not one to break promises, right?

_"I'll be there when the sun goes down," he said softly._

_"Couldn't you come quicker?" I asked. He reached up, cupped my face in his hand._

_"Stars never come out before night." And then he was gone.  
_

A knock on the door. I stand, move toward it, but pause at the full-length mirror, checking my hair, makeup, outfit. Perfect.

"Hello, love," he says as soon as I open the door. I smile, let him in. I can tell his mind is somewhere else, but it doesn't matter. All that counts is here and now.

"I'm so glad you came," I say and pour two glasses of wine.

"You had doubts?" he asks.

"No, of course not," I reply. His eyes, emerald and bright, cast a spell on me. And then it hits me.

_Finnick Odair is in MY apartment!_

Wow.

"You look nice, love." His compliment makes me swoon.

"Shall we go to the bedroom?" I ask, rising off of the couch.

He follows me into my room. I turn off the light and take his hand, leading him to my bed.

I hand him another glass of wine. Here, in the dark, we are invisible. Powerful. Magical.

"Time is slipping away, love." I don't know what this means. That I'm boring? He needs to go. I reach out in the dark and run my hands through his hair.

"Stay with me. I can make you glad you came." These words are the doorway to his lips, and time and space vanish. It is only me and him.

* * *

"That was wonderful, love."

"What do I owe you?" I ask.

"Some gossip, one relationship issue, and your biggest fear."

"All that for... this?" I gesture at the bed, at us.

"Yes." I wait for more, some sort of explanation. None comes, so I begin to talk.

"Neetamarie Flax is sleeping with J-J Nichole's fiance. He plans on marrying both of them. I don't know how he's going to do it. J-J is already suspicious. And don't get me started on Bruno Stark. He's dealing morphine under the table to people working in the President's Mansion! There are rumors that Snow himself is an addict, and that's why he hardly makes public appearances.

There's this one guy, Damian Rocks. He's my neighbor. I was hoping he'd see you arrive tonight and leave tomorrow morning, so he'd know that if I was good enough to be with you, I was good enough to be with him."

"You used me to make another man jealous?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Finnick. I just-"

"Don't be, love. It's rather common, actually."

"Oh," I sigh with relief. The thought of hurting Finnick Odair, breaking his heart, it was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

"And your biggest fear?" he inquires, leaning in. I swallow, summoning it.

"My biggest fear is that one of my heels will break while I'm walking."


	4. If I Die Young

_If I Die Young_

"It's okay, Mama. I'll be alright. Thresh is here to protect me. And I'll get lots of sponsors. I'll hide in the trees and get gifts and wait until everyone else is dead. Everything is going to be fine."

Of course, we both know it's not true. But a little wishful thinking never hurt anyone.

On the train, I go to my compartment. I get down on my knees and begin to pray.

"Lord, make me a rainbow. I'll shine down on my mama. She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors. I know life isn't what it was meant to be, what I thought it would be. I've accepted that. I've had enough time on this Earth. Please take care of my family when I'm gone. Amen."

* * *

"I want to stay me. I won't let nobody change me."

"What about you, Rue? What's your dying wish?" I guess Chaff doesn't really believe either one of us will make it out.

"I want to be buried in satin, layed down on a bed of roses. It'd be nice, too, if they could sink my body in the river behind my house and send me away with the song we sing when a loved one dies. You know, if my body isn't too hideous when it gets back."

Thresh takes a deep breath. His girlfriend died in the Games two years ago. We did just that for her when her body returned to District Eleven.

I've never been in love, but there was a boy back home. I had a crush on him, and he liked me too. We held hands once. My fingers are still warm from his touch.

We joked about our future once. He said he wanted to be with me forever. But we both knew forever is often severed by the Games. If it wasn't me, it probably would have been him in the arena.

I do miss him. I wish I had kissed him at the goodbyes. But I was too scared.

Oh, well. What I never did is done.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Seeder asks gently. No, if I was going to sell my thoughts, it'd be for a dollar. After all, they're worth so much more when I'm a goner. Funny, when you're dead, how people treasure your words.

"What did you mean, the song you sing when a loved one dies?" Chaff asks.

"The ballad of the dove."

"I like that one," Seeder says. "It's peaceful. Calming." A tear rolls down Thresh's cheek. I never thought I'd see him cry.

"Yes, I want them to sing that when I'm dead. And I don't want anyone to cry. They should save their tears for when they really need them."

"You can't ask people not to cry over your death. You're so sweet. Everyone loves you." Seeder's eyes have clouded with tears.

"But no one expects me to come home."

Back in my compartment, I write down my wish. _If I die, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of the dove song. _

Katniss Everdeen never read that note. Strange how Rue got her wish afterall.


	5. Superman

_Superman  
_

_Torment_. Not uncommon in Panem. And at the same time, it's not what most people imagine a _victor's_ life to be like. After all, they've _won_. They've risen above the poverty and _pain_ of their fellow citizens.

They were in the arena. They experienced, no, _they caused death_. They are scarred, and nothing can fix them. Once a mind is trapped by the _horrors_ they've experienced, it can _never be released_.

They say _giving_ is better than receiving, and it's true. If I could give away_ all my memories_ from the day I turned fourteen to now, I'd do it without _hesitation_. And I'd pity the bastard who received all that _pain, fear, exhaustion_.

_Torment_. It's what I feel every second, every moment. _Tying knots_ doesn't necessarily take away the sensation, but it helps.

When I won the _Games_ eleven years ago, they _all congratulated_ me. The girls _wanted_ me and then boys wanted _to be me_. But they didn't want the torment. They didn't realize. It's not easy to _be me. _

They thought I would rise. Snow _threatened_ me, told me I would do what he wanted. And he wanted me to _fly_.

I can't stand to_ fly_. I just want to find a better part of myself. Trying to recover the part of me that's still good. That's still me. Not the _victor_. Not the_ killer_.

_Finnick_.

I'm more than a bird, _flying_ from home to home at every _Capitol woman's_ call. Yes, I have a pretty face. But that doesn't _mean anything_. Most people don't know that _it's not easy to be me_.

I used to wish that I could_ cry_ without being questioned. Now that the _rebellion_ has come, now that my _Annie_ is being held captive and I'm_ classified_ as mentally unstable, I can _break down_. I can collapse and act confused and _stupid_ even though what really ales me is_ torment_.

It may sound _absurd_, but don't be naive. Even victors have the _right to bleed_. And yes, I am _disturbed_. But even victors have the _right to dream_.

That's just it, isn't it? I was, I _am _a dreamer. I'm _high_. I'm _flying_. But men weren't meant to ride with the _clouds_ between their knees. And I'm only a man with a _shiny crown_. Running from the same thing as everyone else;_ torment_. Only a man, _desired and loved_. Trying to find that _thing_, that one spark that makes me... _special_.

I know it's in there, _inside of me_. Somewhere. And I will _find it_.

_Torment_. One of the many things that makes it not easy to be me.


End file.
